


Stille Nacht

by idlesuperstar



Series: The Life And Death Of Sugar Candy [24]
Category: The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp (1943)
Genre: Christmas fic, M/M, Which I swore I would never write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-05 18:45:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1097371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idlesuperstar/pseuds/idlesuperstar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas Eve, London, 1939.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stille Nacht

**Author's Note:**

> Series notes [here](http://archiveofourown.org/series/36980)

It had been a long journey to get here, Clive thought; long and at times difficult, but it was worth it. And even he could see that for the parallel it was, as he gazed up at the vast dome of the cathedral. It was cold in here, his breath pluming faintly, but he was wrapped up well, and Theo was a warm presence at his side. And if their thighs and arms pressed together, well, who was to notice? The chairs were narrow, and everyone was huddled together for warmth. He glanced sideways at Theo, sitting with his eyes closed, straight backed and chin up, listening to the unearthly beauty of the choir. Clive had worried that Theo might not find any of the carols familiar, but of course there was Silent Night - _Stille Nacht, Clive, it was German first, you know_ \- and there was something so pure and moving about the sound of a choir that Clive thought that it did not really matter in the end. Though - even after all these years - listening to carols made him feel like a boy again, nostalgic for something long lost. Chestnuts and a piano, and snowball fights and that first daring cup of mulled cider. Another country, but familiar, and fondly remembered. He was not a man to look back, often, and he’d spent enough Christmases in hot countries, sweating through a heavy meal, to have no particular sentimentality for it. But this year - well. He glanced at Theo again, and he was gazing openly, head tilted back, at the beautiful high dome, the rich decoration. What a feat of engineering it was! It was truly awe inspiring. And with the sound of the boys’ voices it became something almost magical. And here was Theo to share it with him. What a gift it was! He pressed his arm against Theo’s, leaned into him for warmth. Theo looked down, smiled fondly at him, his face clear and peaceful. Clive smiled, overwhelmed again at the sheer joy of it. 

 _In The Bleak Midwinter_. That had always been on of Aunt Margaret’s favourites. A little too melancholy for Clive’s taste, as a young man. But here in this place, he could appreciate it. And with dinner at the club to look forward to, and an evening in front of the fire at home with Theo, it was easy to listen to it, and think of being warm and cosy while the frosty wind blew outside. He rubbed his hands together surreptitiously, trying to warm them. Sitting for too long, really. St Paul’s had never been a warm place, these old buildings never were, but the sudden cold snap had taken everyone by surprise. Coming back from France - where it was ten degrees warmer at least - Clive had sent Murdoch burrowing into cupboards for his warmest gloves. He’d worried about Theo, with his leg, but Theo seemed unconcerned. No doubt Prussian winters made one hardy. He’d always been eager to get outside in Berlin, despite the cold. Clive smiled at that. Theo could do with his that army greatcoat now, though. That lovely fur collar. But he was prickly when it came to such things. He wouldn’t have Clive buying his clothes, he said. It made him feel like a kept man. Nonsense, of course, but these things were best dealt with stealthily. At least he’d got him to have some decent pyjamas, and a dressing gown. It became more and more tempting every time he was home to not dress at all. He flushed a little at the thought. Theo shifted against him, slipping an arm through his, drawing Clive nearer. Oh! He felt tears welling up. Ridiculous. He blinked them back, pressing closer to Theo. It had been a month, now, and still he could not believe it sometimes. Theo, here, at his side, all his.  

 _O Come All Ye Faithful_ brought him back to himself. This was more his style. A bit of guts to this one. He looked at his service sheet. This was the final one, already! It had been a good decision, coming, even if it had been an unholy scramble. France and the War seemed a very long way away, here, with the clear, high voices singing words that had been sung for decades. Surely there was no disloyalty in wishing for a few days respite. All his years in the army and he’d never balked at any posting, but now - now he found himself reluctant to go back. All because of Theo. All these years apart, and he had borne them; yet now a few days away was almost too much to bear. What a difference it made, knowing Theo was waiting for him at home. He squeezed Theo’s arm, grateful beyond belief. The choir were just holding the last note, letting it ring out in the still cold air. A few moments of silence, and then a flurry of muttering and shuffling as people stood up to leave. Clive turned his head to look at Theo and saw he was very still; gazing once more at the huge vault of the dome. Well, they would wait until the hustle had died down. There was no rush. Theo murmured something that Clive couldn’t catch. 

“What’s that, old thing?” he asked in a low tone. One always seemed to whisper in churches. 

“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Just a line from a poem. _Et O ces voix d'enfants, chantant dans la coupole!”_

“Is that French? Do you mean to say you speak French as well?” Clive asked. 

“Oh, not really. I picked up a little, you know, when I was over there in the war. And I learned a little, in the camp.” He shrugged. “A way to pass the time. One of my fellow officers had a French mother, if you can believe that! So he taught me. It passed your cold winter nights.” He smiled, to take the sting out of it. It was an old joke for him. “Anyway, that is a line from an English poem, as well, you know. But it always springs to mind, whenever I hear boys singing.” He was looking into the distance, as if remembering something. And then, briskly, clapped his hands together, warming them. “But enough sitting, Clive, in this big old beautiful box of ice!  Shall we go?”

“Yes, if you’re ready? There’s no rush.”

“Then let us go. You must be starved. And we can come back again, when it is warmer, to look our fill. And for you to visit your great Englishmen, eh?” He bent down stiffly to pick up his cane, and levered himself up with it. Clive stood with him, straightening his greatcoat. There were a few stragglers left, but most people had hurried away to get warm. They walked slowly down the nave, Theo’s arm tucked into Clive’s. That was one of the good things about getting older, thought Clive. No-one batted an eyelid at the two old men walking arm in arm when Theo had his stick. Nothing more natural. He smiled, feeling as if he were getting away with something. They came out onto the steps, and saw that it had gone dark while they were inside.

“Oh, Clive, I do not think I shall ever get used to London with her lights out. She is like a grand old lady without her jewels on,” Theo said, mournfully. 

“It’s like a deathtrap, is what it is,” Clive grumbled. The amount of people they’d nearly run over on the way, and it had not been full dark! “Thank god it’s nearly a full moon!”

“Yes, and a clear night as well, after a week of that terrible fog! Ach!” Theo snorted, and started laughing.

“What?” Clive asked, turning to him, bemused. 

“Clive, I have been in England too long, if all I can talk about is the weather! Quick! Let us get a cab and we can talk of more important things, hmm?” and he smiled warmly, a gleam in his eye. Oh, Clive would never get used to this! Let him never get used to it. They hurried down the steps and onto the street, and luck was with them, there was a cab waiting. Clive put a hand to Theo’s elbow, helping him into it, and scrambled after him. Oh that was better! A little warmer at least. He gave the driver the address and sat back, purposely close to Theo, safe in the dark of the cab. He felt Theo snake an arm under his, and clasp his hand. The driver would never see. 

“You are all right, then, mein Freund?” Theo murmured, low. They had barely had chance to speak earlier, when Clive had got back home, what with the delays, and then trying to find warmer clothes. But now they had all the time, and room to speak.

“Yes, I’m fine. The usual nonsense trying to get back, but other than that, it’s been quiet. Nothing to worry about,” he murmured. He could not discuss details, but really all Theo wanted to know was that he was safe. “How about you?”

“Oh, I have been all right. It has been infernally cold, of course, but there is something quite lovely about a cold frosty walk in the park when you know there is a roaring fire and a decent brandy waiting for you at home.” He smiled, and Clive’s heart leapt to hear him speak of home in that way. He squeezed Theo’s hand, pressed more closely against his side. 

“Yes, I know what you mean. Has Murdoch been looking after you all right?”

“Clive, he treats me better than he treats you,” Theo said, teasing. 

“Hmmph! Well, that wouldn’t be difficult! I bet he doesn’t talk back to you!” Clive grumbled. 

“No, he is perfectly civil. We have come to a fine understanding, Murdoch and I,” Theo said, and Clive could hear the smile in his voice.  

“Well.” Clive could not think of a reply. “That’s good, I suppose.” 

“Yes, it is. Now, enough about Murdoch.” He shifted in the seat, turning towards Clive a little.  “Thank you, for this afternoon,” he said, his voice low,  “it was beautiful.”

“Yes it was, rather, wasn’t it? I’m glad you liked it. I always meant to go, in the past, if I were in London. But somehow I never got around to it.” 

“Hmm,” Theo murmured. “Ja. I think - forgive me Clive, if I presume, but - I think it is harder to do things, when you are alone. Tell me - ” he said, “ - would you have come today, if I were not here?”

Clive was ready to protest, but he stopped to think. Theo was right. He might have wanted to come, but would he have made the effort?

“I think - you know, Theo I think you are right. I wanted to come. But I wanted to bring you. I thought you would enjoy it too. I’m not sure I would have come on my own.”

“And of course I did. I am not criticising you, Clive. I am only telling you that I understand.” He squeezed Clive’s hand, to emphasise. “I am the same. I have been the same. But - ” he leant close, his lips brushing Clive’s ear, sending a shiver through him “ - no longer, eh, mein Freund? No longer alone,” he murmured, quietly. God! Clive nodded, unable to speak. Theo was pressed up against him, breath hot on his ear, murmuring low, too low for the cabbie to hear, “I still - Clive, I still cannot believe it, some mornings. When I wake up, in your bed.” Clive was flushed, picturing it. “Even when you are away, Clive. I lie there, and think perhaps it is another dream.” Theo sighed, sending shivers through Clive again. “But then Murdoch comes knocking on the door, with tea, and I would not, I think, dream that up!” He huffed a laugh, sitting back in the seat again, leaving Clive cold all down his neck. 

“No,” Clive managed, gathering himself. “Murdoch is no-one’s idea of a dream vision, eh?” He laughed, thinking of it. “But yes,” he said, more soberly. “I’m the same.” He looked at the cabbie, but he was concentrating on the dark road, and could not hear them. “Until I get home, and see you, I can’t quite believe it myself. Do you think we’ll ever get used to it?”

“Oh, we will become old and jaded, I am sure!” Theo smiled. Clive laughed with him, felt Theo press against him again, the warmth and strength of him, and thought happily, _I will never get used to this_. 

 

* * * * * * *

 

Dinner had been remarkably good, thought Clive idly, as the porter helped him on with his greatcoat. Amazing what these fellows could do with the rations. Even the brandy was still decent. We must hope Herr Hitler never gets to the club cellar, he thought, smiling to himself. 

“Will we have to wait long for a cab, do you think, Clive?” Theo asked, pulling his gloves on. It was warm enough in the lobby of the club, and Theo would never say anything, but Clive could tell that his leg was starting to hurt him from the way he was leaning more heavily on his stick. 

“Oh, I shouldn’t think so - ” Clive began, just as the boy came to tell them he’d found a cab. “See? Luck, eh?”

“I think it must be more than luck, Clive. It is fortune, eh? Smiling down on you.” Theo smiled in turn, tucking his hand under Clive’s arm as they made their way out into the cold evening.

“Maybe so, maybe so,” Clive murmured, putting a hand to Theo’s elbow again as he got into the cab. He settled himself in, pulling the door firmly shut. “Do you know,” he said, thoughtfully, “the Hindus believe in something they call ‘karma’.” He turned to look at Theo, his face barely visible in the dark, but his presence warm and close. “That if you do good things, then good things will happen to you. The same for bad things, as well. Someone explained it to me once, years ago.” He sat back in the seat, wondering at the unbidden memory. Heat, and sweat, and lovely brown skin, and the whiteness of the boy’s teeth when he’d grinned. Lord, but there had been some beautiful boys in India in those days. Probably there still were. 

“And did you believe it?” Theo’s voice brought him back to the present.

“What?” Clive wasn’t sure what Theo was asking about.

“Clive, I believe you were very far away, for a moment.” 

“Oh, yes. Sorry. Thinking about - ” he faltered. 

“About your time in India, yes? Who was it who told you of this ‘karma’? Some wise old man?”

Ha!” Clive laughed. “No, quite the opposite. A boy. Well, a - young man, I suppose. Not wise.” Clive was sure that his voice was giving everything away.

“Ah.” Theo’s voice was warm, knowing. “Was he very handsome?” he asked, low enough for the driver not to hear, pressing closer to Clive as he spoke.

“Yes, I seem to remember he was. Full of life.” Clive smiled, thinking about it. He’d not thought of that boy for, oh, thirty years. “He’d be an old man now, like me.”

“Still full of life, like you then, mein Freund,” Theo said, pressing a gloved hand to Clive’s.   

“I hope so,” Clive said, turning his hand under Theo’s to interlace their fingers. 

“And did you believe what he said? That good deeds bring good fortune?”

“I don’t know,” Clive said, pondering. “I think - ” he paused, trying to organise his thoughts. “Well, one was always brought up to do the Christian thing, you know. Do unto others.” 

“Ja, this is true for me also.”

“I’m not sure, though, that I believe that brings good fortune. I think it’s just how one should act. I think that fortune’s a fickle mistress. Is that a quote from somewhere, Theo? You always know these things.”

“I do not think so. But, I do not know everything,” Theo replied, modestly.

“You don’t?” Clive asked, teasing. “Hey!” he said, as Theo thumped him, good-naturedly. “But - where was I?”

“With your fickle mistress.”

“Idiot. Yes. But, well, look at us. If I’d not punched Kaunitz, I’d never have met you. Was punching Kaunitz the Christian thing to do?”

“Perhaps not Christian, no. It was not turning the other cheek. But - you said he was a rat, did you not?”

“Yes, of course. It was the _right_ thing to do. The honourable thing. So doing the right thing led to us being friends.”

“Clive, I never realised you had such a brain for logic.”

“Oh, hush, you! But then, I’d gone to Berlin because of that letter of Edith’s. So that’s the start of it. If I’d never met Edith, I would never have met you.” That was clear, certainly. 

“True. Your arguments are flawless.”

“But then - ” Clive realised he must press on to the end of his thought, however painful. “Were it not for Edith, I would - ” he faltered, his voice dropping to a whisper “- I would never have lost you, either.”

“No.” Theo agreed, quietly. “No, that is also true. Although - many things were against us, Clive.”

“Yes, of course I know that. The army. One goes where one must.”

“Yes. Not just the army. I think - ” but whatever it was Theo was about to say was interrupted by the cab coming to a stop. Clive disentangled his arm from Theo’s and struggled his way out into the cold night. He paid the cabbie and turned back to give Theo a hand out of the cab. The moon was bright enough for him to see Theo’s look of censure as he made his way by himself. Clive laughed, thinking of their little arguments about it. He looked up, his breath coming in frosty plumes, at the clear sky, the astonishing brightness of the stars. He felt Theo come to stand close to him, felt his warmth, and they stood there together, gazing at the unearthly beauty of it. The night was eerily still, the street deserted, the only sound that of the cab driving away. 

“How lovely it is, Clive, how bright the stars are, without the city lights.” There was a touch of wonder in Theo’s voice. 

“Let’s have a moment in the square, eh?” Clive said. “D’you have my key?”

“Oh, yes, I have it here - ” and they crossed the road to the little gate. There was just enough moonlight for Theo to see by, and he unlocked the gate and let Clive go through first, following him. It was frosty underfoot, and Clive took Theo’s arm as they walked carefully along the path, and onto the grass, crunching beneath their feet. Steadier here, thought Clive, stopping. He looked up again, and yes, it was wonderful. And then Theo was crowding close to him, slipping an arm around his back. Clive did the same, and they stood there together, looking up at the bright stars in the inky sky, the moon - almost full - clear and white. Theo was lovely and warm all along his side, his arm firm and sure across Clive’s back.

“I think - ” Theo began quietly, after a few moments, “ - Clive, I think, you know, that it is a chance in a million that we met.”

Oh, thought Clive. Is this what he meant to say in the cab? But it was true, wasn’t it?

“Yes, old thing, you’re right.”

“And fate has indeed been a fickle mistress, for both of us, over the years.”

“Mmm.”

“But - Clive, I am not sure if this ‘karma’ is true or not.” Theo’s voice was quiet, gentle. “Certainly, you have not done so many bad things, surely, for you to have been so lonely for so long.” 

“Oh, well - ” Clive started to protest, but Theo drew him closer, and he subsided. 

“I only say it because it is true, Clive. And because I understand also, too well.”

“Yes, I know.” There was no need to hide it, not with Theo. It was not pity, not from him. Clive had a sudden memory of the hospital. Never any fuss, with Theo. Even back then, right at the start, he had instinctively trusted him. And here they were now. 

“You’re right, of course. But yes, it _is_ a chance in a million that we ever met.”

“It is, and whatever has happened, we are here now. How many others can say the same? Clive - ” and he slipped his arm from Clive’s back, and pulled away. Clive was suddenly cold, but Theo turned to face him, his face pale in the moonlight, oh, his dear face. He brought his gloved hands up to Clive’s face, so gently, as if Clive were something precious. 

“Clive - ” he said softly, his eyes dark and fond, “ - I do not know if it is fate, or ‘karma’, or just wild chance, but I tell you this, mein Freund. I am - ” he paused, swallowing, “I am a lucky man, to be here with you. Despite the war, and the horror, and all that has happened to me. Despite all this, I think myself so very lucky - ” he faltered, voice breaking. Clive could not speak, could not begin to find the words. He brought his hands up to Theo’s face, mirroring him, could only nod silent agreement, too overcome.    

“Oh, Theo - ” he murmured, and Theo kissed him, his lips cold and dry, but oh the familiar feel of it, the lovely solid strength of him, the faint thud of his heartbeat, even the scratch of the wool of his scarf. It was all real, and true, and - _god_ \- it was his to keep. Clive broke the kiss, stroked a thumb over Theo’s cheek. 

“Come on, Theo,” he murmured, close enough still to feel Theo’s warm breath on his lips, “let’s get inside, shall we? Lovely as the moonlight is, we’re getting cold. I think firelight will be just as lovely.”

“Yes, alright,” Theo replied, “it will be more comfortable, eh?” he smiled. 

“Yes. I’d like to see you out of some of these layers, you know.”

“Ah, Clive. You will make me vain, one day, with all this talk.” Clive laughed, thinking that Theo had always been a little vain, with his uniform buttons, and his well cut clothes. Best not to mention it though. 

“It’s only that I like to look at you,” he said, turning towards the gate and taking Theo’s arm again. “I will never tire of looking at you. Is that so difficult to bear?” he teased, as Theo locked the gate behind them. 

“I will do my best to stand it,” Theo replied, smiling. 

“Good man. Now come along, I think a good fire and a brandy will be just the ticket.”

“And then presents?” Theo asked, sounding suddenly boyish. 

“Yes, and then presents,” Clive said, indulgently, thinking that for a moment he had turned into his Aunt Margaret. Well, there were worse people to turn into. 

“Thank you, Clive,” Theo said, as they came to the front door.

“What for?”

“Well, many things, of course. But thank you for this - for indulging my traditions.”

“Oh, the presents, you mean?” Clive asked as he opened the door. Murdoch had left a small lamp on in the hallway, and it seemed very bright after the near darkness outside. “Well, it seems only right to try and honour both our traditions. And, if I’m not mistaken, the King and his family open their presents on Christmas Eve too. So if it’s good enough for the King, it’s good enough for me.”

“That is good to hear,” Theo said, unwinding his scarf and taking his hat off. “You know that it is the German tradition that they are following there?”

“It is?” Clive asked, unbuttoning his greatcoat and hanging it up. 

“Yes indeed. I believe it was Prince Albert who introduced it to the Queen. Oh, thank you.” Theo said as Clive helped him out of his overcoat.   

“Well.” Clive said, as they went into the lounge. Ah, good to see that Murdoch had left a good fire going. Clive had given both him and the cook the evening off, but no doubt Murdoch was grumbling about in the kitchen, busy with preparations. He really had taken the idea of Christmas lunch far too much to heart. Rarely had Murdoch ever been lost for words, but when Clive had offhandedly suggested dining at home instead of at his club for the first time in years, he could have sworn that Murdoch was going to faint with joy. 

“And Christmas trees, also,” Theo was saying, as he poured drinks for them both.

“Christmas trees? What on earth are you talking about now?”

“Prince Albert. He brought the idea of that with him too. You know, a lot of your Christmas traditions are German ones.”

“Well - ” Clive took a grateful sip of his brandy, feeling the warmth spreading through him, “ - that is rather fitting, then, isn’t it?” he said, sitting down in his chair before the fire. Theo took his place opposite, stretching his legs out with a small sigh. 

“Yes, I suppose you are right,” Theo said, smiling the small, genuine smile that Clive liked to think was for him alone. “We are making our own traditions, we two, yes? Yet still keeping some of the old ones, from both our countries. I like that.”

“Me too,” Clive replied, warmly. He sank back into his chair, stretching his toes out towards the fire. What bliss, to be warm and cosy, on such a frosty evening. And with Theo, safe and warm, at his fireside. Theo was right, they were lucky men. He closed his eyes, letting the fire’s warmth soak into him. Lord, he was tired. He’d not realised until now. He’d been up since - what - five? The journey home was always strenuous. And he always felt a little tired after dinner, these days. It had been a decent spread. He wiggled his toes, glad to be home. There was a light touch on his arm and he started, opening his eyes. Theo, with a cigarette for him. He smiled, tiredly.

“Clive, you are worn out,” Theo said, drawing the footstool over to Clive’s chair and perching on it, a hand on Clive’s knee.

“Hmm, no, just a little tired. I’m alright. It’s nice to relax, finally, that’s all.”

“Yes. It is good to be home, eh?” Theo said, watching him through the cigarette smoke. 

“Mmm,” Clive agreed, putting his empty glass down and covering Theo’s hand with his own. How lovely it was, to sit here like this. He should get a sofa, though. Why had they never had one, he and Barbara? He flushed, looking at Theo. 

“Clive?” Theo asked, and dear lord, were his thoughts always to be read in his face?

“I wish we had a sofa. Why have I never had a sofa?”

“I don’t know, Clive.”

“It never bothered me before.” He looked down, embarrassed, saw his hand and Theo’s, entwined. “But I always want to be close to you. I think it would be rather splendid to have a sofa, to have you sitting next to me. Is that silly?”

“Clive, has it escaped your notice that I am sitting on an uncomfortable stool, rather than the armchair?” Theo laughed, eyes bright.

“Ah, yes. Fair point. Alright. Sofa it is. Until then, we shall just have to make do.”

“Until then, we shall just continue to retire to bed early, I think,” Theo said, his voice low and thrilling. Oh! Clive leant forward, clasped Theo’s arm. 

“That’s an argument against ever getting a sofa, you know,” he said, breathless. Theo laughed, low, and Clive kissed him, tasting the brandy and cigarettes; and here was something else he would never get used to, the freedom to kiss Theo. Theo broke the kiss, smiling, and Clive was about to protest but he was only stubbing his cigarette out, and then surging forward again, taking Clive’s face in his hands and kissing him deeply, and oh the glory of it; familiar and thrilling at the same time. Clive leaned closer, one hand clutching Theo’s side, the other in his hair, feeling it thick through his fingers. Theo’s mouth, the lovely soft heat of it, the brush of his moustache; Clive shifted forward and his knee thumped painfully against Theo’s. Theo huffed a laugh against his lips, broke the kiss and drew back a little, his hair disarrayed where Clive’s hand had been. 

“That is an argument _for_ the sofa, Clive,” he said, smiling ruefully. 

“I think it’s an argument for the bed, myself,” Clive said, daringly. Theo’s eyes shone at that, and he flushed a little. Yes, thought Clive. “Let’s - ” he took Theo’s hands in his, “ - let’s take the presents upstairs, shall we? Unwrap them in bed?” Was he going too far? It seemed by far the most practical course. 

“Clive, I must say your mind is razor sharp tonight! What an excellent idea!” He let Clive stand and pull him up by their linked hands. “Can you manage the presents?”

“Hmm, yes, they’re only two. Why? Your leg bothering you?”

“What? Oh, a little. But I was thinking more of the brandy!” he said, walking over to the table and picking up the decanter. Oh, yes, why not? Clive thought of that night in the hospital, drinking Kirschwasser together in that narrow bed, Theo pressed up against him, tipsy in his shirtsleeves. The memory was precious, thrilling; it had been something he had cherished in his secret heart, allowing himself to think of it only rarely; but the reality before him now, Theo leading the way, brandy in hand, that was even better. 

He closed the lounge door behind them and made his way across the hall after Theo, pausing only to collect the presents. His for Theo had been impossible to disguise - it was obviously a set of gramophone records. And he had an inkling that Theo had bought him a book. Well, he would soon find out. They made their way steadily up the stairs, Clive deliberately slowing to appreciate the fine line of Theo’s back as he climbed. All those glances that he had stolen, when he had been sure Theo was not looking; now he could look to his heart’s content, and know that Theo loved it. They reached the bedroom, and Clive opened the door for Theo, who had his hands full. He put the presents carefully on his bedside table as Theo put the decanter and glasses down on his. Clive laughed, happily, at the sight.

“What, mein Freund?” asked Theo, smiling.

“All set, now, aren’t we? Brandy and presents? What else could we possibly need?”

“Very true, Clive. Our needs are simple and few. Just this. And this - ” and he stepped close again, kissed Clive lightly. Oh, how Clive’s heart leapt at that. How precious and new it still was, Theo’s eager kiss. Theo drew away before he could deepen the kiss, raising a teasing finger. 

“Now, Clive - you promised to keep my tradition. Presents, ja? Come along, and into your pyjamas, like a good boy.” He was grinning like a schoolboy, like the merry boy he’d been back in Berlin. Oh, how Clive loved to see it! 

“Alright,” he grumbled, more for show than from any real annoyance. He moved to the wardrobe and began undressing, glad to get out of his uniform. Theo was just as quick, with his neat, precise movements. He held his hands out and Clive undid his cufflinks for him, then went back to his own shirt buttons. He watched unashamedly as Theo stripped his shirt off, pulling it over his head in his usual fashion; Clive would never tire of it, the lovely curve of his spine, the pale skin of his back. He reached out a hand and smoothed it down the still soft skin; Theo emerged from his shirt, his hair a wreck, and smiled over his shoulder at Clive. 

“My vanity, again, Clive.” 

“I can’t help it, Theo. There’s something so lovely about it.” He stroked a palm up over Theo’s shoulder blade, back down to his waist. “You know,” he said, voice distant as he remembered, hand still idly smoothing over the skin, “ - do you remember, one evening in the hospital? It had rained all day, and we wrestled?” His hand fell away as Theo turned to face him, an incredulous expression on his face.

“Clive, I am not yet senile. Do you think I do not remember everything just as you do? _Lieber gott_ \- ” he smiled, “ - it almost killed me.”

“You? I was the one who ended up flat on my back! I had bruises, you know.” 

“You nearly had more than that! Ach! Do you know what it did to me? You half naked, with your hair all _so -_ ”he gestured wildly, “ - and you would not let go of me!” He laughed, almost sounding embarrassed.

“I could say the same of you! Christ! The things I wanted to do to you!” It was Clive’s turn to laugh in embarrassment. He shook his head. What idiots they had been. “But - ” he took a breath, calming himself, looked at Theo’s shining face. “I didn’t really know, until that night. Well, I knew, but I didn’t know that I knew. Does that make sense?”

“Not in the slightest, Clive,” Theo said, shaking his head, and padding over to the wardrobe to hang up his shirt. 

“What I mean is - ” Clive finished unbuttoning his shirt as he gathered his thoughts, “ - until that evening, I hadn’t quite understood what I felt for you. I knew that I wanted your company above all others, that I was happy when you were with me.” He blushed a little to admit it, even after all these years, foolish as it was to fear anything from Theo. Theo took his shirt from him and hung it up, waiting patiently for him to continue. 

“It was when you took your shirt off, as you did just now,” Clive continued, unfastening his trousers and stepping out of them. Theo moved across to the bed, rooting around under the pillows for their pyjamas. He handed Clive’s across to him, and Clive pulled on his trousers. 

“Go on, Clive, I am listening,” Theo said, stepping out of his underwear and into his pyjama trousers. 

“Your back was turned, and you were pulling your shirt over your head, and - without realising it - I reached out, to touch. This, here - ” he moved again to Theo, smoothed a hand down his bare skin, “ - that was all. Only a small thing, but it made me realise my feelings for you were more than friendship.” He looked up at Theo’s dear face, at the young man he had been and the old man he was now. Always the same man, underneath it all.     

“Well, Clive, I must admit that you did not show it,” Theo said, smiling, clasping his arm briefly. 

“I was mortified, old man,” Clive said, padding over to the bed and pulling down the covers. “You’d have noticed soon enough had you pressed too closely.” 

“Clive! You dog. Truly?” Theo grinned at him, pleased, as he shrugged his arms into his pyjama jacket. Clive laughed at his delight, and clambered into the bed, shivering a little at the coolness of the sheets. 

“Yes, truly! Now come on, get in, it’s cold. Come and warm these sheets up!” Theo did as he was bid; fussing with the pillows until he was happy, and then settling back with a happy sigh.

“Presents, now, Clive?” he asked, eagerly. 

“Presents now. Are you pouring us a drink?”

“Yes, yes.” Clive reached for the gifts, settling himself comfortably and taking a glass from Theo. 

“Prost” Theo said, clinking their glasses. “Happy Christmas, Clive.”

“Happy Christmas, Theo. Here’s to many more.” They drank in tandem, then put the glasses down to turn their attention to the gifts. 

“You open yours first, Clive,” Theo said, picking it up and handing it to him. “It is not much, I am afraid, but I hope that you will like it.”

“Alright,” Clive said, untying the string. He hoped he would like it too. He hoped that if it was a book it wasn’t something terribly earnest. He unwrapped the paper and took out - yes it _was_ a book. And not new, for the leather was soft, and the spine a little worn. He opened it to the title page and -

“Oh, Theo, well done!” he said, happily.

“It is alright, yes?” Theo asked, casually, but Clive could hear the concern beneath the surface.

“Sherlock Holmes! Oh I loved these as a young man. I’ve not read any for years.” He leafed through the fine pages, saw story titles both familiar and not, and - 

“Oh, and these illustrations! I remember these from _The Strand._ They’re ever so good. The times I missed an issue, you know, because I was posted somewhere, and I didn’t always get to catch up.”

“Well, now you can take them with you, on your posting. I think it is small enough to fit in your pocket, yes? It is not new, as you can tell, but I thought it was a nice edition.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you, Theo.” He looked up, smiling, and saw his pleasure reflected on Theo’s face. 

“I am glad, Clive. I wanted it to be something you would really like.”

“And I do. Right, it’s your turn now. I hope you like it. I hope it’s the right sort of thing.” 

“Well, let us see, hmm? What can it be?” he asked, teasingly.

“Oh, you know what it is!” Clive said, handing it over. 

“Alright.” Theo unpicked the string slowly, neatly. Clive was beside himself. Oh, let him have got it right. Theo unwrapped the paper and then stopped, frozen, his eyes cast down.

“Theo?” Clive asked tentatively. Oh, had he got it wrong?

“Clive - ” Theo said in a small voice. He bent his head, cleared his throat and then looked up at Clive, and there were tears in his eyes. 

“Theo!”

“Clive - you - ” he stopped again, obviously lost for words. “Just when I think you can no longer surprise me,” he said, quietly, his voice shaking. “Clive, how did you know?” 

“Is it alright?” Clive asked, concerned, taking Theo’s hand.

“Alright? It is more than that. It is quite the best thing. But I ask you again, how did you know?”

“Oh.” Clive squeezed Theo’s hand and sighed in relief. “It was one night in Berlin, in the hospital.” How often tonight they had gone back to those memories! “Do you remember? It was snowing, and you were in my room, watching the snow fall, through the window. You were singing something in German, and I asked you what it was. I don’t think you even knew you were singing. You said it was something called ‘Winter Song’. Well, you said it in German, and then translated it for me. Do you remember?”

“ _Winterreise._ I do remember, vaguely. I spent so many evenings with you, you know. I tend to think of them as one long evening. But you remembered that, after all these years?” He sounded amazed.

“Well, I remember thinking that it sounded so - so melancholy. It was sad, but it was very lovely too. But you never seemed sad.”

“You are right, it _is_ very lovely, and very sad. How young I was! I fancied myself quite the melancholy romantic, in my youth. And _Winterreise_ was a favourite of mine. How foolish we are, as young men. We enjoy sad music because life has yet to really touch us. And then when the sadness truly happens we cannot bear to listen to it.” He looked at Clive, took both his hands. “There were some dark nights for me, you know, after you left Berlin, when I thought I would never see you again. But - hope. Hope is the hardest thing to kill, is it not?”

“Yes, Theo. You’re right.” Clive squeezed Theo’s hands, looked into his fond eyes. “I often tried not to hope, you know. I told myself that when I next saw you, it would be enough to know that you were happy and safe, and that we were friends.” He smiled, ruefully. “But I don’t think my heart was very good at listening to my head.” 

“Nein, mine also.” 

“But - are you sure it’s alright? I don’t want to bring back sad memories for you.”

“It is alright, Clive, and do you know why?” He squeezed Clive’s hands again, warmly. “I can listen to it now, and remember the sadness, and it will be fine, because I am happy again, here with you.” 

  “Oh, _Theo,_ ” Clive said, overcome. Oh, this man. He bent his head, feeling tears welling up again, could not stop them spilling over this time.

“Come, Clive, hush now, it’s alright,” Theo said, smiling, his own eyes still wet.

“I know, sorry, it’s just - ” Clive stopped, took a breath to steady himself. “It’s what you said. Me too. I am happy again, here with you.” He wiped at his eyes. “Oh, blast it, can we move these things before they get damaged?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Theo said, sitting up with alacrity. He took the records and the book and laid them reverently on his bedside table. Clive gathered the wrappings and tossed them onto the floor.

“Clive Candy!” Theo said in mock-outrage.

“Shut up and kiss me,” Clive replied, and Theo grinned, tears forgotten, and fairly launched himself at Clive. Clive caught him and rolled onto his back, laughing. Theo kissed him, small happy kisses along his jawline, his neck, his lips. Clive could not help grinning, feeling young and silly. 

“But tell me, Clive,” Theo said, pausing with his hand on Clive’s chest. “When did you have time to buy those recordings? You have been away so much, and when you are here, well - ” he grinned saucily, “ - we are barely out of bed, to be truthful.”

“Hmm, I know,” Clive said, leaning up to kiss him again. “You’ll tell me off for this, I know, but I sent Angela out for it.”

“That poor girl! Honestly, you have her dancing to your tune!”

“She offered!” Clive protested. “I happened to mention it, and she offered. I think she enjoyed the intrigue, to be honest. Being a bit of a detective. I didn’t give her much to go on, after all. And she thinks I’m a stuffy old relic who wouldn’t know one end of a gramophone from the other, let alone go into a shop to buy something.”

“Clive, you are a wicked man,” Theo grinned. 

“Only with you, Theo,” Clive said, heatedly.

“Good,” Theo murmured, his voice thrillingly low, “that is how it should be. Are you still tired?”

God, how could he be tired, with Theo looking at him like that?

“No - ” he murmured, putting a hand to Theo’s neck and pulling him down for a kiss. “Christ, no.”

Theo smiled against his lips, and then kissed him fiercely, pressing alongside him. Oh, the soft heat of his mouth, the faint taste of brandy on his tongue, the familiar scent of him; his warm skin and hair oil and cigarettes; Clive smoothed a hand up his back, felt the strength there, the lovely solid feel of him, pulled him closer, pressing impossibly close, wanting to touch everywhere, burrow into all the hidden parts of him. Christ, the glory of it! He would never tire of this, never. Theo’s hand, hot and heavy on his neck, like a brand; _god_ , he was Theo’s, all Theo’s; the thought was thrilling, sending a wave of arousal through him. He broke the kiss, gasping; snaked his other arm under Theo and rolled them until Theo was on his back, chest heaving, and Clive could climb up to straddle him. 

“Like that, eh, Clive?” Theo panted, looking up at him with dishevelled hair and heat in his eyes.

“Yes - ” Clive breathed, heart racing, caught again at the sight of him. He’d had a dream like this, once. It had never left him. He reached down to Theo’s pyjama top and started unbuttoning it, aware as he did of the solid heat of Theo’s thighs under his own. 

“Your leg alright?” he asked, quietly, as he undid the last button and peeled the jacket open. He smoothed a hand down the centre of Theo’s chest, to his waistband, and started undoing the ties. 

“It’s fine - ” Theo murmured, distractedly, “ - don’t stop.”

Clive had no intention of stopping. What a sight this was, Theo laid out before him, his lovely pale skin, the faint dusting of hair on his chest. He knelt up for a moment, tapped Theo on the leg to get him to lift up far enough that Clive could draw down his trousers. Oh, the sight of him! The curve of his belly, the shadow of his hipbones, the lovely pink flush of his cock. Clive could happily just look at him; but no, he had to touch, had to smooth both hands down that warm familiar skin. Theo pushed himself up off the pillows long enough to wrestle himself out of his pyjama jacket, flinging it onto the floor. Clive smiled at that, smiled even more at the sight of Theo, spread out on his sheets, naked and flushed, beautiful.   

“Clive - ” Theo breathed, settling back onto the pillows, his arms folded beneath his head. It pulled all the muscles in his arms taut, emphasised the lovely lines of him, the rise and fall of his ribcage; smoothed out the skin over his belly. What a sight! 

“Christ, Theo, d’you know what you look like?” Clive murmured, smoothing hands down Theo’s warm sides, the ridges of his ribs. Theo grinned, shot Clive a heated look. Oh, he knew alright, with his hair ruffled by the pillows, and that saucy smirk.

“Well,” Theo murmured, stretching a little, pressing further down into the sheets, “you said you wanted to look, eh?”

“Not just look, you know,” Clive replied, his hands still moving, over Theo’s belly, the fine soft skin of his abdomen, his hipbones; the firm stretch of his thighs; skating around his hardening cock but not touching. 

“Ah - ” Theo arched a little into the touch, “ - you are teasing me now, eh?”

“Not teasing,” Clive said, “just taking my time.”

“Take all the time you like, Clive,” Theo murmured, “only, let me look at you, also.” he said,  jogging his leg under Clive’s backside to emphasise. 

“Alright,” Clive said, sitting back on his heels. He unbuttoned his pyjama top, throwing it to the floor as Theo had done, to Theo’s amusement. Oh, there was no graceful way to remove pyjama trousers, he thought, as he clambered off the bed to shuck them. Still, what did that matter? Theo was stretching his leg out, as if Clive could not see. 

“Theo, your leg - ” 

“I told you, Clive, it is fine. Come back, back as you were, yes? I like to see you like that, I like to feel the weight of you.”

“Alright - ” Clive said, pleased. He liked it too, liked seeing Theo spread out like a feast. He scrambled back up astride Theo, settling down, and oh! the lovely feel of it, skin to skin. Theo’s thighs warm and strong beneath his own, the faint shivery rasp of hair against the delicate skin of his balls, his hardening cock. It sent  heat all through him. He couldn’t help but touch himself briefly; a few quick strokes as he watched Theo’s face, Theo watching him back, a flush of pink on his cheeks. Oh, god, he had to touch Theo, wanted to touch all of him at once. He shifted forward a little, feeling the delicious drag of skin, and put a hand lightly to Theo’s half-hard cock, feeling it leap to his touch. Theo let out a small groan, and Clive smiled, thrilled. 

“ _Gott_ , Clive, don’t tease.” Theo gasped out, “it has been a long week.”

Yes, hadn’t it? How quickly he’d got used to this, to touching Theo, and how long the days - the _nights_ were without him. He shifted closer again, trailed his fingertips lightly through the grey fuzz of hair, over the sensitive skin of his balls. Theo let out a frustrated noise, half cursing. Clive stroked back up to his cock, relented, took a firm grip. Theo moaned in relief, fully hard now, and Clive was too, already. It was a minor miracle, considering. He smiled, began stroking firmly, his other hand smoothing across whatever of Theo he could reach; his belly, his side, up to the smooth stretch of his arm, back down again. The skin of his stomach pale against Clive’s hand. He looked up to see that Theo had pushed another pillow under his head, propping himself up to watch. That sent a flush through him.

“Oh, Clive - do you know how you look?”

Clive shook his head, bashful. This was all Theo, this glory, coming undone under his hands. 

“I - ” Theo paused, took a breath, his chest flushed; breathed out a laugh. “ - _gott_ , Clive, do you know - how I love your hands.” He smiled, eyes dark, at Clive’s look.

“It is true,” Theo nodded. “I think I could - ” he faltered again, catching his breath “ - I could pick them out in ten thousand. I used to imagine - I used to - ” he broke off, bringing his arms down and propping himself up on his elbows, his face fierce. “I used to imagine it was your hand on me, you know, when I did this.”  He nodded down at Clive’s hand, and Clive’s grip tightened at the thought. “Even though you’d never touched me in this way, back then. _Gott_ , the nights I had - ” he collapsed back down, breathing heavily. Clive was flushed, thrilled; felt a fierce joy at Theo’s words. God, hadn’t he done the same?

“Me too, Theo, many nights.” He quickened his hand a little, felt Theo arch up into it, felt his own cock leap. Oh, could he - ? He shifted, shivering in pleasure at the brush of skin against his cock, shuffled a little further up, letting go of Theo’s cock for a moment. Theo grumbled in protest, but then, yes, he could he could bring their cocks together and - oh _Christ_ , that felt good!  Theo groaned again at the feel of it, and Clive felt a noise escape him. God, how could something so simple feel so lovely? The fine smooth skin of Theo’s cock against his own. He clasped his hand around them both; see how Theo liked his hands now!

“ _Verdammt,_ Clive!” Theo moaned, and yes, god, _yes_. What it did to him, hearing Theo like that. What did it say that the only German he understood was curse words? He leaned forward, bracing himself on one arm on the bed, his breathing as heavy as Theo’s now, and oh, god the sight of him, stretched out, flushed, the sweat shining on his chest, his eyes dark. He was grinning through his harsh breathing, and Clive was grinning back, desperate, close now, feeling the visceral pull, and then Theo pushed himself up on one arm and put his hand over Clive’s - moving with him, faster still, his hand hot and tight and sweaty, and oh god, that was it that was it and Clive was coming, hot over their hands, and Theo arched and was coming too, both of them stuttering and panting through the slick slide of it, their hands hot and sticky, slowing, breathing through the shudders. Theo collapsed back onto the sheets, laughing, breathless. Clive sat back on his haunches, his legs shaking, wiped his sticky hand on Theo’s belly, waiting for his heart to stop pounding. He grinned at Theo, almost giddy. 

“Ach - ” Theo said, after a moment, trying ineffectually to reach over to the bedside cabinet. “I cannot move. Clive. I cannot move.”

“Alright,” Clive replied, voice shaky. He pushed himself up and off Theo clumsily, rolling onto his back beside him, chest heaving. “You can move now.”

“Thank you, Clive,” came the sarcastic reply. Clive felt rather than saw him roll over and then he was sitting up, half-heartedly mopping at Clive and them himself with a handkerchief. Clive lay drowsily under his ministrations, thinking idly that he would like a cigarette. And of course Theo was ahead of him, reaching across again to fumble two out of the box on the bedside table, and lighting them in his usual fashion. He passed one over and Clive took a grateful drag, breathing the smoke out to the ceiling. Theo thumped back onto the pillows, scrubbing a hand through his hair. They lay in companionable silence, smoking. 

“Alright?” Clive murmured, sleepily, after a little while.

Theo huffed out a laugh with his cigarette smoke. “Are you fishing for compliments, mein Freund?”

“Idiot,” Clive replied, fondly. He reached a hand out idly, rested it on Theo’s flank. Impossible to be so close and not touch. “You know what I mean.”

“Mmm, always.” Theo stretched away for a moment, stubbing out his cigarette, and then rolled back to face Clive, propping himself up on one elbow, his hand pushing his hair awry. He smoothed the other hand down Clive’s chest, watching him fondly as Clive finished his cigarette. One day, perhaps, Clive would get used to this, Theo’s open regard. Theo took the fag-end from him, drew one final drag from it, and stubbed it out. Then settled back down, curled up against Clive, still stroking a hand down his chest. Clive was too content; sleepy, sated; the lovely warm weight of Theo against him. He stroked a hand down Theo’s arm; the fine skin of his forearm, the smooth muscle of his bicep. Oh, he must get up and wash before he fell asleep. Never had he wanted to  move less. 

“Clive.” Theo patted his belly gently. 

“Hmm.”

“Bathroom.”

“Mmm.”

“I go first, my boy,” Theo said, pushing himself up. “Promise to stay awake, yes? Two minutes.”

“Mnnm.” Clive felt the bed shift, and Theo’s weight was suddenly gone. He found himself drifting, to the sounds of Theo pulling on pyjamas and opening the door. He should pull up the covers, it was getting cold. One minute. 

“Clive Candy, are you asleep?” Theo’s voice startled him. He’d not heard him come back into the room. He opened his eyes to see Theo leaning over him, about to poke him in the ribs.

“ ’m awake!” he grumbled. “Honestly, what does it come to, a man getting bossed around in his own bed?” 

“Clive, you know how you are if you wake up in the night,” Theo said, handing him his pyjamas. Clive shuffled himself into them, still grumbling. Theo grinned at him, patted his shoulder. 

“Be quick, Clive, it is cold out there!” he said, clambering back into bed. Clive left him fussing with the pillows, and hurried to the bathroom. He really should remember his slippers. Curse this floor! He completed his ablutions hastily, washing the last of the mess from his belly. Waking up itchy and uncomfortable was alright when you were twenty five, but there was no need for it now. That was a lesson soon learned. He smiled, giddily, despite his tiredness. What lessons, though! Let there be a thousand more. He dried his hands and padded back down the landing to his room. Oh! Here was another sight to never get used to; Theo in his bed, his face soft and peaceful, nearly asleep. Clive climbed in beside him, and turned off the last of the lights. Theo mumbled something, shuffled nearer to wrap an arm round Clive as he curled into Theo’s warmth. They would end up moving in the night, with room to spread out and find the most comfort, but it was lovely to fall asleep so close. Clive’s mind drifted back - again, tonight! - to that narrow hospital bed, and how they’d fallen asleep and woken up pressed together, sticky and sweaty and aching; how he hadn’t cared. Well, he was too old for such things now, and it didn’t matter, because Theo was there, a hand’s breadth away, when he woke up. Clive shifted a little, settling his arm more firmly across Theo’s belly, and Theo murmured something that sounded German. Clive murmured back, nonsense sounds; lulled by the rise and fall of Theo’s chest under his head, the soft sound of his breathing, the warmth of him. Lovely. He was asleep without ever realising it. 

 

* * * * * * *

 

Clive came awake slowly; aware only of the warm cocoon of the bedlinen and something different in the quality of the light. He cracked an eye open idly, in no rush to lose the lovely dreamy feeling. Theo was standing at the window, smoking; one curtain drawn back and the pale winter sunlight catching his face. He looked - cigarette apart - terribly boyish, with his rumpled pyjamas and his hair all ruffled at the back. He was humming quietly, and the sight of it suffused Clive with such contentment and joy that he did not want to speak, for fear of breaking the spell. He lay, snug and comfortable, looking his fill. Theo finished his cigarette unhurriedly, and turned back to stub it out. 

“Clive!” he said, an eyebrow quirking in surprise. “How long have you been awake, mein Freund?”

“Oh, not long. I was enjoying the view.”

Theo smiled, almost bashful, as if it were a surprise, as if he didn’t know how Clive liked to look at him. He drew the covers back and climbed back into the bed, propping his pillows up so that he could sit up. 

“I was enjoying the view also. You know, it has snowed overnight! Do you believe it! Only a little, but, oh Clive, it looks so _wunderschön_ \- so beautiful.” His face was alight, boyish, and Clive thought, _yes, my view was beautiful too._  

“Shall we go for a walk?” Clive asked, liking the idea of it, from the warmth of his bed. 

“Will we have time? Will Murdoch allow us out, today? I think he has a schedule,” Theo said, smiling.

“What time is it now, anyway? Theo! It’s only eight. Are you a child?” 

“Clive, it is Christmas day! It has snowed! And you are not usually such a lazy thing,” Theo said, poking him gently in the side. 

“Oh, I don’t know, Theo,” Clive replied, pushing himself up far enough to settle down comfortably against Theo, his head pillowed on Theo’s stomach, Theo’s arm warm and strong across his back. “I seem to want to get out of bed much later these days, for some reason.”

“Well, yes, I understand that,” Theo replied, fondly. “I have the same problem.” Clive felt him settle down a little more, and closed his eyes, contentedly. Oh, the familiar sound of Theo’s breathing, the scent of him, the light play of his fingers over Clive’s back. All lovely, precious. They lay comfortably, breathing in tandem, Theo occasionally gently humming a scrap of a song. How lovely his voice was, how fine. He had said he could pick Clive’s hands out in ten thousand; Clive thought he could pick Theo’s voice out of all of the peoples of the earth. 

Theo was humming a little louder now, a more complete melody. It was something almost mournful, but it suited the quiet stillness of their bed, the clear sunlight. It must look very lovely outside. It would be wrong not to take advantage; how rarely Clive had seen snow at Christmas. How rarely he’d cared. He found he cared now; he wanted to share lovely things with Theo. A walk then, but after breakfast. He could murder a cup of tea. He momentarily wished that the old servant’s bell still worked. 

“Shall I see if Murdoch is willing to give us breakfast, Clive?” Theo asked, breaking uncannily into his thoughts.

“Oh, well, go on then. You’ve been out of bed already,” Clive said, shamefully lazy. “Tea, at least.”

“Yes, tea would be good.”

“Hark at you! Tea! You’ve changed your tune soon enough.”

“Well, Clive, you appear to have a direct route to India, when it comes to tea. I don’t know where Murdoch gets his supplies, but it’s not like that dishwater they serve in every tea house here.”

“Yes, well, I must say I did get a taste for the quality stuff when I was out there,” Clive admitted. He was not fussy about most things, and certainly he’d drunk his fair share of army tea, but he’d have the best in his own home for as long as he could.

“Hmm, and was that all you got a taste for?” Theo asked, mischief in his voice. 

“Theo!” Clive said, sitting up and fixing him with a look. Theo was grinning, and Clive could not help but grin back. “Anyway,” he said, as Theo got out of bed to go to find Murdoch “I’d got a taste for _that_ long before India. And you know - ” he paused, unsure how much to give away. 

“Yes?” Theo said, turning from the door, “one moment, Clive,” he said, disappearing onto the landing.  Clive sat, waiting, uncertain, listening to the distant murmur of voices. “Tea is ordered.” Theo said, coming back into the room. “And there is the promise of crumpets, though I do not know if Murdoch was joking. Carry on, Clive, you were saying?”

“Um. Well,” he looked down, self-conscious. 

“Clive, you do not have to say anything. I was only teasing.” Theo said, climbing back into the bed and putting a gentle hand on Clive’s arm. 

“No, I want to. It’s just - I don’t often talk about it. What’s to say? But - you know, I was not inexperienced, before I met you.”

“Certainly, I knew that. I was the same.”

“Yes, well, it’s not as if I was ashamed, or anything like that. Perfectly natural, it always seemed to me. Just - one had to take care, you know?”

“Yes, only too well,” Theo agreed.

“And I didn’t _stop_ , after you. Well.” For a time, he’d touched no-one, wanted to touch no-one. But - it wasn’t as if they’d sworn abstinence. Loyalty, yes. Their hearts. And the years had gone by. He ducked his head down again, bashful. “It was a while. I didn’t want to - I didn’t want to forget any part of it. I didn’t want other memories getting in the way, do you understand?”

“Of course I do, Clive. I felt the same. It was different, of course, for me.” He paused, and Clive heard the unspoken _with Edith._ “But I felt exactly as you did. It was precious, ja? A precious memory.”

“Yes, that’s it.  And - and this is something I never realised, until a lot later. When I did, you know - ” and oh, this was ridiculous, that he could do such things but not speak of them! “When I - ”

“When you took men to bed, yes?”

“Yes, that.” Clive coughed, and Theo smiled at his embarrassment. “Well, it was often those street boys, with their lovely brown skin, and - I thought it was just because they were beautiful. And different, you know? Not like the fellows back home. More free, somehow. Full of life.”

“I can understand that, Clive. Something different can be just as lovely.”

“But, I think, as well as how lovely they were, it was because they were so different to you. I would not get the memories confused, you see? So I would remember you, perfectly, and remember them, and it was clear in my mind.” He looked away, self-conscious. “When I allowed myself to think of you at all, that is.”

“Oh, Clive. What a fellow you are!”

“Don’t laugh at me, Theo. It’s Christmas. You have to be nice.”

“I am not laughing at you. I think you are a marvel. And I tell you something - you know what hope is? It has you seeing things that cannot possibly be. Surely you have had that? You long to see someone - even in a place they cannot be - and everyone in the street looks like him, until you see them close, and - disappointment. I tell you, one thing. There are not many men in Germany that had your wonderful red hair. I was thankful for that. It would have killed me, I think, if you were blond. I would have always been seeing you, and been disappointed.” He laughed, ruefully, as if he was ashamed of himself. 

“Oh, Theo, I know that only too well.” He’d not often caught sight of anyone with the same straight back and shoulders as Theo, but there had been some times...And of course, he smiled, thinking of Barbara, and Edith, suddenly. What a mysterious thing life was, to be here now, in bed with Theo, thinking of the girls, and yet to be happy, and content, and not feel regret.

There was a brisk knock at the door, and Murdoch calling “Breakfast, General! And a Happy Christmas!” 

“Thank you Murdoch! Same to you!” Clive called, and Theo was out of bed, heading for the door. He came back in with the tray, settling it over Clive’s knees.

“Do you think he’ll ever bring the tray in, Clive?” Theo asked, smiling. 

“Spare his blushes, Theo. He’s been with me a long time, I don’t want to lose him now.”

“What? We are perfectly respectable.” Theo said, buttering a crumpet lavishly. Butter! Murdoch must be playing the black market. Or hiding a cow somewhere.  

“I know that, and you know that, but let’s not burden Murdoch with it, eh?”

“Alright, Clive. Come on, pour the tea.”

“Patience, patience. It needs another minute.”

“Alright. And then - outside yes?”

“Yes. You know, if we can get a cab, we could go to St James’ Park for half an hour? That would look rather lovely, with the water, and the ducks, don’t you think?”

“You are right, Clive. I was thinking we  might manage the walk to Hyde Park, but if there are cabs - ” he smiled sidelong at Clive. “Is it because you want to salute the King, on Christmas day?”

“Oh, hush you. He’s at Sandringham. I like St James’, that’s all. And we might get some roast chestnuts. I’ve not had those for years.”

“And mulled wine, Clive?”

“Theo, no-one on this earth drinks mulled wine, unless they have nothing else. It’s ghastly stuff.”

“I know - ” Theo was laughing “- but I was just checking, before you became overwhelmed by traditions.”

“We’ve made enough traditions of our own, I think,” Clive said, pouring the tea. “Carols at St Paul’s, dinner at the Club and presents on Christmas Eve; breakfast in bed and a walk in the park and lunch on Christmas Day. Will that do?”

“That will do very well, mein Freund. I am already looking forward to next Christmas, and this one is barely started.” Oh, _yes_ , thought Clive. Next Christmas. Who knew what the War would bring, but let them be here next Christmas, together. 

“Happy Christmas, old thing,” Clive said, handing Theo his tea. 

“ _Frohe Weihnachten,_ ” Theo said, as they clinked their cups in a toast. 

“Oh!” Clive said, “how d’ye say it?”

“Frohe -” Theo said, patiently, smiling. 

“Frohe,” Clive repeated. “Yes?”

“Near enough, Clive,” Theo said, in a long suffering tone. “Weihnachten.”  

“Weihnachten,” Clive said, uncertainly, looking at Theo, who nodded, amused. “ _Frohe_ _Weihnachten,_ Theo,” he said, proudly, clinking their cups again. How easy it was to learn when you really wanted to, he thought. 

“Happy Christmas, Clive,” Theo replied, settling back with his tea, his face open and happy. “ _Für immer_ , yes?” he said, his voice low, his eyes so terribly fond.

“ _Für immer,_ Theo,” Clive replied, heart full, barely able to speak. No, he thought, happily, covering Theo’s hand with his own as he sipped his tea.  _I will never get used to this._

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this last year (last year!) as a Christmas gift for **jennytheshipper** and **tea-with-theo** to thank them for all their Sugar Candy related help over the year. It has had a quick and dirty beta from J since then. 
> 
> Bonus thanks to Anton for his Prince Albert (as it were) which I managed to shove in a legitimate but sneaky reference to. 
> 
> This is unashamedly a Christmas fic, so I wanted to shove in as many Christmas things as possible, because there are a lot of things about Christmas that I like, and I wanted it to be a bit sappy but without (hopefully) making anyone choke on sentiment. And mulled wine.
> 
> Here's where I go a bit crazy with the notes:
> 
> The French that Theo quotes: “Et O ces voix d’enfants, chantant dans le coupole!” is from Verlaine (who Theo has no doubt read, but I have not) and also from _The Waste Land_ which Theo and I have definitely read. It does always spring to mind when I hear choirboys singing (which is not often). 
> 
> _Verdammt_ is German for 'Fuck'. (Also 'fucking'). You're welcome. 
> 
> _Winterreise_ is of course Schubert which - as it is a series of songs about a man who has lost his love and is very melancholy and also it is snowy - is not just a lovely fit for winter fic, but also Theo’s character, as well as the story. My favourite recording is [Bostridge & Andsnes;](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mXO7wvLgVy0) but Clive would have been able to send Johnny out to buy the [ 1933 HMV recording ](http://www.pristineclassical.com/paco005.html).
> 
> There is a Carol service every year at St Paul’s at 4pm on Christmas Eve. I could find nothing to suggest that it *didn’t* happen in 1939, because the cathedral was kept open, and indeed, more heavily watched by fire wardens etc than the surrounding areas, because it was seen as such a prime target. Also, I have been fortunate enough to go to Evensong at St Paul's which was quite wonderful, despite me being a hardcore atheist and occasionally troubled about whether it's alright to still enjoy sacred music. 
> 
> There was a full moon on December 26th, 1939, and there was also a cold snap with freezing fog and frosts. Weather research ftw.
> 
> The King was indeed at Sandringham on Christmas Day, and gave a very famous Broadcast for his Christmas Day Speech (with only one stutter) that is quoted all over the internet, even though where it was done from was *much* harder to find. 
> 
> Hyde Park, Green Park and St James’ Park are the three nearest parks to Clive’s house. You can walk to Hyde Park from Cadogan Place (the real life Cardigan Place) in about fifteen minutes so the boys could do it, if they got a cab back, and Theo’s leg was alright. But I want them to go to St James’ because I like it best, it has a little bridge, you can see Buckingham Palace (which Clive would like) and because Aziraphale and Crowley in _Good Omens_ always go there. 
> 
> And finally: Murdoch is *not* playing the black market, or keeping a cow. That would be not just against the law, but unpatriotic and also deleterious to the war effort. Shame on Clive for even thinking it.


End file.
